A Word A Day: Collection 1

I promised myself that I would write based on a word each day, and so far I’m going strong. But here are the five words that have struck a cord in me, and I hope they do so to you too.

Cutest, adj.

It would take me a long time to use superlatives again because I would rather admit I’m stone-cold than reminisce about the way your eyes crinkled when you laughed.

Heartfelt, adj.

I may not always have the right words to say, but you have to know these words were once wrapped around the veins, released only to give.

Inhale, v.

It isn’t that I forget to breathe. How could I, when my life is dependent on the gulps of air I take in? I am surrounded by history, that some of these gases dated back to thousands of years ago, before we all existed even. I would’ve breathed in Edgar Allan Poe’s exhales and I wouldn’t know because we carry within us not only the abundance of air, but the age of it.

For days, I wake up with the shortness of breath, and as the day prolongs, I find myself wanting to climb back into bed, wondering why it’s been weeks since we breathed the same air. Since I found myself on steady footing, when I found my heart beating twice as hard. It’s funny how I imagined it because we were breathing the same, and yet I lose less— therefore, I come up for air, and yet not wanting any at all.

So I did hold it in instead, not knowing that I turned blue from thoughts of losing you, when it was an inevitable end from the start. We all breathe out, lose out, get out.

Metaphor, n.

You will know I no longer feel for you when I compare your eyes to clear pools of water, or the color of your pair matches with the auburn shade of leaves at autumn. Unlike your eyes, nature is untainted, or at least I’d like them to be the way they were, when God decided to color the universe instead of leaving us in the dark. Believe what you want to believe— an explosion in the sky or the presence of omnipotence matters not when it was decided that we become the difference in the chaos.

You will know you no longer have my heart when your smile is as bright as the sun, or is as illuminated as the lights on Christmas morning. Your teeth weren’t white, but chalk yellow, and I have seen brighter days than when you grinned at me the first time after a long time. Like you, the lights burn and fade, even if it takes a million years. Remember, I did not choose for you to fade, you did on your own. At least the sun could explain why, why couldn’t you?

You will know I no longer shake in your presence when your laughter is the thunder that follows after the lightning, a sound reacting to the spark. You scared me the first time you burst in hysterics because I felt like it was the start of something new borrowed, like you had an expiration date before you receded back to the way I found you, when you found me. A storm followed hereafter, when you struck (out) twice, and lightning does not.

You will know I no longer long for you when you can bring me the moon, or when the flowers bloom brighter because you’re around. Even Superman has his weaknesses, and if I see you for only what you can be instead of what you are, then that was not how it used to be. When you can turn back time and expect everything to be all right, you know even souls can be lost in between zones, and I wouldn’t want to be lost in an idea all over again. We all know you can’t hold one in your hands.